A VIEW OF THE WOODS
485
when they arrived and the concrete mixer was already in operation.
It
was about the size and color of a circus elephant; they stood and
watched it churn for a half-hour or so. At eleven-thirty, the old man
had an appointment with Tilman to discuss his transaction and they
had to leave. He did not tell Mary Fortune where they were going
but only that he had to see a man.
Tilman operated a combination country store, filling station,
scrap-metal dump, used-car lot and dance hall five miles down the
highway that connected with the dirt road that passed in front of
the Fortune place. Since the dirt road would soon be paved, he
wanted a good location on it for another such enterprise. He was an
up-and-coming man-the kind, Mr. Fortune thought, who was never
just in line with progress but always a little ahead of it so that he
could be there to meet it when it arrived. Signs up and down the
highway announced that Tilman's was only five miles away, only
four, only three, only two, only one; then "Watch out for Tilman's,
Around this bend!" and finally, "Here it is, Friends, TILMAN'S!"
in dazzling red letters.
Tilman's was bordered on either side by a field of old used-car
bodies, a kind of ward for incurable automobiles. He also sold out–
door ornaments, such as stone cranes and chickens, urns, jardiniers, ·
whirligigs, and farther back from the road, so as not to depress his
dance-hall customers, a line of tombstones and monuments. Most
of his businesses went on out-of-doors, so that his store building itself
had not involved excessive expense.
It
was a one-room wooden struc–
ture onto which he had added, behind, a long tin hall equipped for
dancing. This was divided into two sections, Colored and White,
each with its private nickelodeon. He had a barbecue pit and sold
barbecued sandwiches and soft drinks.
As they drove up under the shed of Tilman's place, the old
man glanced at the child sitting with her feet drawn up on the seat
and her chin resting on her knees. He didn't know if she would re–
member that it was Tilman he was going to sell the lot to or not.
"What you going in here for?" she asked suddenly, with a snif–
fing look as if she scented an enemy.
"Noner yer bidnis," he said. "You just sit in the car and when
I
come out,
I'll
bring you something."
